


Saviour of the Damned

by TrickstersHeir



Series: Red Dead Revenants [1]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Crack Treated Seriously, Dialogue Heavy, Everyone Is Gay, Multi, Vampires, Werewolves, beta'ed by my sister we live like kings, but you dont need to know anything about vampyr for this story, finish the game before reading this or a lot of shit wont make sense lol, gay little manlet vampire saves the day, lowkey this is a crossover with vampyr (2018), major spoilers for chapter 3 onwards, pairings are mostly in the bg and arent the main focus of the story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-05-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:40:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23735509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrickstersHeir/pseuds/TrickstersHeir
Summary: Fate had a plan for the Van der Linde Gang. The vampire who took an interest in them had a different one.Major spoilers for Chapter 3: Clemens Point and onwards.
Relationships: Abigail Roberts Marston/John Marston, Arthur Morgan/Charles Smith, Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde, Original Male Character & Van Der Linde Gang, Sadie Adler/Molly O'Shea
Series: Red Dead Revenants [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1709656
Comments: 8
Kudos: 50
Collections: Suggested Stories





	1. Sean

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't finished the game or don't know the ending, this story is going to get really confusing. Go finish the game before reading this-- there are major spoilers for everything after Chapter 3: Clemens Point. This story begins immediately following the mission "Short Walk in a Pretty Town." 
> 
> The vampire stuff in this is heavily based on Vampyr, with inspiration from Vampire: The Masquerade. You don't need to know anything about either of these to understand the story. The werewolf stuff is completely homebrew, and won't appear until Chapter 4.

There was a southerly wind gently tussling the leaves on the trees as Bill removed Sean’s body from the horse. The peaceful silence of the clearing contrasted harshly with the gunshots from Rhodes that still echoed in his ears. Sure as shit, those Grays had pegged them for what they were, and now the consequences sat as a heavy shovel in Bill’s hands, digging the fourth grave since Blackwater.

If there was a poetic way to put to words the way Bill’s stomach was crawling, he wouldn’t be able to say them. All that was left to do now was lay Sean to rest and—

Brown Jack let out a nervous whinny, shaking his big shaggy head to the west. His nostrils flared as Bill turned to calm him, wild fear shining in his eyes. Brown Jack was off faster than Bill had ever seen him run.

Cursing up a storm, Bill drew his gun and whipped around to threaten whatever had spooked his horse. He froze up entirely at the sight before him: a short man armed with nothing but a shotgun over his shoulder and a buck knife at his hip. The man’s golden eyes shone in the strands of evening sunlight peeking through the trees. As he offered up a charming smile, chills raced down Bill’s spine.

“You finished burying the body. You’re now going off on your way. You won’t remember this.” The Golden-Eyed man said calmly, his words as smooth as honey.

“I won’t remember this.” Bill repeated.

“Go.”

There was a southerly wind blowing in as Bill mounted up and scolded Brown Jack. “You’re goddamn lucky I got the boy buried before you ran! Run off on me like that again and I’m giving you to Micah.”

He wouldn’t remember the man with golden eyes.

———

The pulse of red indicating the boy’s life force was slow and sluggish, but it was still there. The golden-eyed stranger kneeled next to the boy’s body, sinking low to feel a barely-there pulse. Christ, a bullet right through the eye and out the back of the brains, and the boy still managed to hang on by a thread. Dead to the world, dead to the law, and laid out before a monster.

“I’d normally like to ask permission before doing this, but you ain’t really giving me the option to, boy.” The stranger murmured, drawing his knife from his belt and slicing open the tip of his index finger.

The stranger nudged open the boy’s mouth and pressed his bloodied finger to the boy’s tongue. The boy coughed weakly at the coppery taste, moving for the first time since the stranger had watched him collapse in the street.

Pleased, the stranger drew back his fingers and made another slice, this time across his wrist. “Drink.” He commanded.

He let his warm blood well and trickle into the boy’s open mouth, going down as smooth as good whiskey, but with the burn of bottom-shelf tequila swiftly following it.

Pulling away, the stranger used his saliva to seal up the two thin wounds. They faded away into nothing in seconds, as if the knife had never touched the pale skin.

“Rest now, boy. You’ve got a world of hell comin’ for you at dawn.”

———

Sean woke up to the taste of blood in his mouth and the sight gone in one of his eyes.

He remembered it, the shot that killed him. He hadn’t expected it, none of them had expected it, the goddamn fools they were. No one had thought they were in any danger and now Sean was dead and in Hell and couldn’t see out of his left eye.

Hell looked a lot like a little hunter’s camp, complete with a little hunter.

“So, yer the devil?” Asked Sean casually, raising his head to get a better look at the hunter crouched by the fire.

The hunter raised his head and snorted. “Nah, buddy, I’m just one of his creations. You are too.”

Rising from his position, the hunter ambled over to Sean. He sat beside him, offering up a flask that warmed Sean’s cold hands. “I imagine you’re pretty thirsty right about now. Here, fill your stomach a bit before you realize it and the frenzy hits.”

Sean hesitated. The flask smelled strongly of copper, moonshine, and blood. For some strange reason, it made his stomach rumble and his mouth salivate.

At the hunter’s gentle urging, Sean tossed back the flask and drank deeply. All at once his body went alight. Fire coursed through his veins, compelling him to drink more and more, until the flask was empty and Sean had crushed it in his desperate grip. The metal squealed in protest but crunched inwards all the same.

“What the _fuck_ did you do to me?” Sean gasped out, once he’d tossed the ruined flask aside.

“Saved your life. And also probably ruined it.” The hunter replied. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Sean. Sean MacGuire.”

The hunter flashed him a sharp-toothed smile— too sharp to ever be human. “I’m Jed Wesson. I’m sorry to tell you this Sean, but you’re a vampire now.”

“Bull shite!”

Jed made the face of a man who’d just been told his son was sitting in the town jail after trying to make love to a sheep— not entirely surprised, but still fairly disappointed. “Figured you’d say something like that.”

He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but couldn’t quite find the words. Before he got the chance too, an all-too distinct scent hit Sean’s nostrils. Sean was off in a heartbeat like a bat out of hell, racing at a breakneck pace through the trees.

Somewhere behind him, he heard Jed hollering “GOD DAMMIT BOY!”

———

Jed caught up with Sean about five miles out. The boy sat in the middle of a massacre. The victims had been Lemoyne Raiders by the looks of things. All laid dead on the ground now: some slashed, some shot, some scared straight into the next life— looks of sheer terror forever plastered on their remains. Fifteen men dead, and one very hungry vampire surrounded by them, sinking his fangs deep into the throat of what Jed assumed to be the sole survivor. At least, the sole survivor for the next two minutes.

“I suppose you believe me now?” Jed casually asked, leaning up against a tree.

Sean pulled away from the Raider’s neck, growling deeply and baring those fresh new fangs. Jed growled right back, his eyes flashing pure gold. “You watch that fuckin’ mouth, kid.”

Something in Sean froze up, seizing him with fear and causing him to drop the raider and whimper. Jed’s anger faded from his face almost instantly. He shook his head and moved to kneel beside Sean. “Easy, kiddo. Didn’t mean to mesmerize you. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Hungry.” Sean said, his throat tight.

“Then finish drinking. You’ll be easier to handle when you’re not lost in a blood haze. You’re drinking real sloppy though— slow down and savor it. Means it’ll take less bodies to sate your thirst.”

Sean didn’t need to be told twice. His fangs were back in the man’s neck in an instant, sucking the poor bastard dry. Jed left him to his meal as he sifted through the bodies. The fuckers were already dead, he might as well make sure their valuables didn’t go to waste.

On one of the men, he found a small cut and an envelope with a few drops of blood on it. A paper cut was all it had taken to send Jed’s progeny into a wild fervour.

Christ.

“You save one man and damn fifteen. What a fuckin’ saint you are, Jed Wesson.” Jed grumbled to himself as he finished his looting.

“Just tell yourself they were all racist anyways. Just tell yourself they were all racist anyways. Just—“

“I’m trying to drink in peace here!” Sean called.

“If you’ve drunk enough to mouth off, then you’ve drunk enough to help me burn these bodies.” Jed called back. “Get off your ass and help me pile them up!”

———

Jed stood back to watch their handiwork as the pyre’s flames rose higher and higher. Sean was a mess of restless energy at his side, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet as he stood by.

“So…” Sean began.

“So.” Jed replied.

“You turned me into a vampire, like from that Dracula book I saw Arthur reading.”

Jed visibly cringed at the mention of Dracula. “Sort of. I… you’re a different kind of vampire than what Stoker wrote about. You’re a daywalker.”

Sean cocked his head aside. “How do you know that?”

“Well, you’re not burning up in the sunlight, for one.” Jed said flatly.

“... ah. And you aren’t either, because you’re also a daywalker?”

Smirking, Jed let out a little chuckle. “I’m glad to know you’re smarter than you look.”

“I imagine I won’t ever know how I look anymore.” Sean muttered. “Unless the mirror thing is fake?”

“The mirror thing is fake.” Jed confirmed. “Speaking of looking… I took this off of one of your snacks.”

He held out a black eyepatch.

“You probably don’t want to be looking in any mirror without it. At least, not for awhile.”

Sean frowned, taking the eyepatch and turning it over in his hands. “Saved my life, but not my eye, huh?”

“I’m surprised I managed to even save your brain, if I’m being honest. I didn’t know if the transformation would work, what with the state you were in.” Jed admitted.

“Why did you save me, then?” Sean asked. “Why bother?”

“I had to try.” Jed said, as if it was as simple as that.

“I was as good as dead, and I'm a stranger.” Sean countered, not buying it.

“You were only mostly dead. And with all the strangers I’ve killed over the years, I figured it was time I started saving some.”

Jed shrugged and shook his head. “Listen, Sean, I know this is weird and confusing. It’s a lot to take in at once. If I could’ve offered you a choice, I would’ve. As it stands now… Well, it’s your life. If you’d prefer to be dead, I can finish the job that sniper started. But if you want to give this a chance, stick with me and I’m sure you’ll adapt in no time.”

“Can I go back to my gang like this?”

“Someday. Not yet. Not when something like a papercut is enough to send you into a frenzy like that. I’m guessing you’d rather not risk eating every last one of your friends.”

“It wouldn’t be ideal, no.” Sean snorted.

He stepped back, placing the eyepatch over the left side of his face. Jed adjusted it for him when he glanced over, carefully making sure it hid the worst of the damage.

“So, are you willing to give this a try?” Jed asked softly, hope glowing in those golden eyes.

“I don’t suppose I have any other choice.”

“There’s always another choice. It may not be the ideal choice, but it’s always there.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re a grim little fucker, Jed Wesson?”

Jed let out a dry laugh. “You wouldn’t be the first to say it.”

“Y'know what, Jed? I’m choosing to stick to this, because I’m choosing to believe you can teach me to turn into a bat, and that that part isn’t fake. And if that part is fake, you may as well not tell me, because otherwise I’d ask you to kill me.”

“Oh, the bat part is real. Takes a long ass time to learn, but it's real.” Jed chuckled.

“How long did it take you?”

“About… a hundred and fifty years, give or take.”

“Well, then that’s how long you’re gonna be stuck with me.” Sean said with a devil-may-care grin.


	2. Kieran

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Chapter 4, beginning around the mission "Horsemen, Apocalypses"

Jed learned three important facts during the first few weeks of mentoring Sean. Firstly, Sean adapted incredibly quickly to new situations. His ability to roll with the punches Jed had thrown his way, intentionally or not, was beyond admirable. Secondly, though he was down an eye and probably a better part of his brain power, he could still shoot with the best of them. He handled the Schofield revolver Jed had gifted him with the practiced ease of a genuine gunslinger.

Thirdly, but most importantly, Sean MacGuire never ever _shut the fuck up._

Sean’s howls and jeers boomed across the O’Driscoll hideout with the same intensity as the pounding of a war drum. Though their attack on the hideout had started off quiet, it was never destined to stay that way. As much as Jed would’ve preferred it if their silent attack worked, part of him always itched for the drama and chaos of a big, explosive fight. He couldn’t exactly bring himself to be disappointed when every ounce of blood in his veins sang out for the unbridled violence of a good tussle.

“TAKE THAT, YA BIG STUPID BASTARDS!” Sean shouted gleefully, shredding through O’Driscolls like a machine gun made into a man.

“TA HELL WITH EVERY LAST ONE OF YA!”

Sean’s fire was infectious, pushing Jed harder and harder as he fought alongside him. He’d long since ditched his shotgun in favor of his cavalry sword and his claws. Together, he and Sean brought every last O’Driscoll in the hideout low, leaving scattered corpses in their wake. They’d have one hell of a mess to deal with later. For now, they were more focused on taking out the bastards than on how they’d handle clean up detail.

As the last O’Driscoll fell to Sean’s revolver, a whimper rang out through the camp. Jed whipped his head around in the direction of the cry, scanning for the source. He found it in the form of a badly-injured man tied up to a post. A quick flickering of his vision revealed that though the man still had some sort of life force clinging to him, it was swiftly fading.

Beside him, Sean stiffened. “Kieran?” He called out, panic filling his tone.

The man tied to the post coughed violently when he attempted to yell back. Jed was at his side in a shot of smoke, cutting him free from his bonds and moving to lay him on his back. “Easy, kid, don’t over-exert yourself.”

“Kieran, what the fuck happened to you?” Sean asked, shaking visibly.

Jed silently thanked the powers that be that Sean had fed before they ambushed the hideout. His control so far may have been impressive, but he was still a fledgling, and he was still susceptible to blood frenzy. He’d held Sean back from returning to his gang solely so they could avoid him eating them. It wouldn’t do to have Sean pounce on someone who sounded like a friend.

“The O’Driscolls, they got me… after the party for Jack… I drank too much… I drank too much and they got me and now I’m dead, and I’m seeing you, and we’re both dead, oh god, Sean, they know about Shady Belle, they know—!”

Kieran began hyperventilating, causing Jed to shush him and take his hand. “Easy, son, just breathe. It’s gonna be okay.”

“It’s not going to be okay! The O’Driscolls know where the gang’s hiding out! They sent a patrol out this morning to search it! They’ll kill all of them, like they killed me!”

“You’re not dead yet.” Jed replied firmly. “Breathe.”

“He's not long for this world, Jed.” Sean said nervously, chewing at his bottom lip. “Are you… are you gonna…”

All Jed did was gently squeeze the boy’s hand. “Kieran, was it?”

At the confirming nod, Jed sighed softly.

“Kieran, you’re not dead yet, but you are dying. I can… I can fix it, but for some people my cure would be far worse than dying.”

Furrowing his brow, Kieran stared up at Jed. “What are you talking about?”

“... Have you ever heard of vampires?”

Kieran’s expression grew even more confused. “Vampires? Like… like the monsters from that book? The Dracula one?”

Wincing, Jed nodded. “Uh. Sort of.”

“You’re messing with me.”

Sean shook his head. “I didn’t believe it myself at first, but he’s telling the truth. He saved my life when he turned me, and he can save yours too.”

Kieran looked between the two of them. His exhaustion was clear on his face, worked deep into the lines of his brow and the dark bags under his eyes. “I don’t want to die.” He whispered, his voice cracking harshly.

“It’s not an ideal choice.” Jed told him. “But it’s a choice you have. Sean wasn’t that lucky. With the shape you're in, we won’t be able to get you to a Doctor before you succumb. This is all I can offer you. You got any business left that needs doing, this is the best way to guarantee you can do it.”

Something unrecognizable shone in Kieran’s eyes. “Turn me.”

“You’re absolutely sure about this?”

“I’m not sure of anything, Mr Jed, except that I’m not ready to give up just yet. Turn me.”

Even beaten down and broken as he was, Kieran radiated determination. He watched with sharp eyes as Jed drew his knife and sliced open his forearm. The blood welled up from the cut, shining bright in the sweltering afternoon sun.

“Drink.” Jed commanded, raising his wrist to Kieran’s mouth.

———

“Stay with him.” Jed murmured, once he and Sean had tucked Kieran away in their temporary hideout of Pleasance’s church basement.

“I should be back before he wakes up, but if I’m not, give him one of the mason jars under the cupboard and wait for me.”

“Where are you going?” Sean asked, confusion clear in his eyes.

“To Shady Belle. I’m going to make sure that patrol Kieran mentions didn’t kill your gang.”

“I should go, they’re—“

“Still human. And you’re still a fledgling. Stay here and let me handle it. It wouldn’t do to have them survive the O’Driscolls, only to be torn down by someone they called a friend.” Jed said firmly.

“But—!”

“Stay. With. Kieran.” Jed growled, his eyes flashing bright gold.

Sean swallowed as he felt chills race down his spine. He could only nod as he turned back to Kieran, unable to fight against the command of his sire. He swore he could feel the guilt of issuing it pouring off of Jed as he gathered his weapons.

“I promise you, Sean, I won’t let any of them get hurt.” Jed told him softly.

“I know. I trust you. It’s just…” Sean trailed off.

“It feels wrong to leave the fight to someone else. Believe me, I know.”

———

Death’s foul stench hung about Shady Belle like a dark cloud after a thunderstorm. The mix of blood, horse shit, fear, rotting flesh, and wet dog that perforated the worn-down manor grounds would’ve had Jed retching were he still human. Though most of the bodies had been thrown into the swamp for the gators to deal with, it was still clear a massacre had gone down. At the very least, the casualties seemed to be one sided.

The man Jed recognized from the night he turned Sean was helping another man toss the last of the bodies into the water. Others were moving about the manor in a stunned haze, still shaken up over the sudden attack. All of the life forces Jed felt in the camp were stable and steady, with the exception of one that wavered every so often. Not enough to alarm Jed, but enough to make him note that one of the gang members was starting to get sick.

So long as none of them were dead, Jed could breathe a sigh of relief.


	3. Hosea & Lenny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Chapter 4 Mission "Banking, the Old American Art."

Following the battle at Shady Belle, the O’Driscolls had shouldered more casualties than they could count. The Van Der Linde Gang, on the other hand, counted only two- Enis the American Standardbred, and Branwen the Tennessee Walker. Jed had felt an insurmountable sense of relief when the two horses took to their old owners like nothing had changed.

He ruefully wished his old mare had been the same when he had first turned. Two hundred some years, and he still missed her ornery ass. She’d been an absolute pain to him during his life and a terror in his un-life. He’d eventually let her retire with a farmer friend out in Texas, where she could spend her final days harassing the chickens and being treated like the Queen of Sheba.

Jed supposed that dealing with Sean was close enough to still having her.

“You seem like you’re thinking hard about something.” Kieran remarked softly, in the same gentle tone he used on the horses. “Did you… uh, did you wanna talk about it?”

Jed shook his head, offering up a smile. “Nah, little buddy, I’m good. Just got caught up in some memories. How’s Branwen doing?”

Kieran beamed. “She’s happy! She seems to be comfortable here, with Enis and Carmilla.”

“That’s good to hear. Maybe you and Sean could take them out for a ride while I’m off in Saint Denis stocking up this afternoon. If you stick to trails on my map, you should be safe.” Jed suggested.

“You’re going to Saint Denis?”

“Just for the day. I need to pick up some supplies I can’t get in Rhodes. I’m trusting you and Sean to behave yourselves while I’m out.”

His expression went stern, reminding Kieran of a father who really, really did not want to be disappointed by his shitty kids, but knew better than to get his hopes up.

“Meaning you’re trusting me to keep Sean in line?” Kieran asked.

“You’re a smart kid, Kieran. Don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” Jed replied with a smile.

Chewing at his bottom lip, Kieran nodded. “I’ll do my best, sir.”

Jed ruffled his hair fondly. “You’ll do fine. Sean listens to you a lot more than he listens to me.”

———

Leaving Sean and Kieran behind in Pleasance, Jed hitched up Carmilla to his cart and made his way to Saint Denis. The Percheron wasn’t overly fond of pulling carts, but would allow it when Jed needed the space. He’d pick her up some peppermints and fresh apples when he was stocking up as a reward for her putting up with their afternoon shopping.

Luck seemed to be on Jed’s side for once. He’d gotten a good price on the ammunition he’d needed, sold off the valuables he’d taken off of the Raiders and O’Driscolls, and managed to score high quality provisions for the horses, all before noon. Everything seemed to be going his way, right until he heard gunfire and smelled fresh blood.

Stiffening in his seat, Jed turned his gaze to the source of the sound. There was a stand-off in front of the bank, between lawmen and what looked to be a gang of robbers. Familiar energies started popping into Jed’s vision in bursts of crimson and gold.

Shit. The Van Der Linde Gang was in Saint Denis, and the police force was hot on their tail. Jed watched with bated breath as they lawmen chased after the fleeing gang, leaving behind a body in the street— a body of a man who wasn’t dead. At least, not yet.

Jed was at the man’s side before he could even consider the consequences of what he was about to do.

———

Hosea did not expect to wake up after the gunshot.

Hosea thought the last thing he would see before he died was the terrified look in Dutch’s eyes. He thought he’d failed him, he’d failed to hold Dutch back, and now he was dead and gone, along with any and all hope of seeing Dutch as he once was. Milton had shot Hosea squarely in the gut and sent him sprawling the ground. His last chance to help his friend see reason ran out with the blood that seeped from his wounds.

Hosea did not expect to wake up after the gunshot, and he especially did not expect to wake up _hungry._

Every heart in Saint Denis beat like drums in Hosea’s ears. The pungent smell of fresh blood filled his nose and overtook his sense, making his mouth water and his teeth ache. He froze up when he realized the deep growling noise that echoed through the small room was coming from himself.

“Hey, easy there. Drink this.”

A whiskey-smooth voice called to him. A jar of warm red liquid was pressed into his shaking hands. They steadied around the heated glass, raising it to his lips so he could gulp down the contents greedily. Hosea felt as though he was fresh out of the desert and hadn’t drank water in forty days. What he was drinking now certainly wasn’t water.

Hosea could not bring himself to pull away.

Only when the jar was emptied did Hosea set it down. He was shaking again, this time without the threat of hunger lurking behind it. His shivers now seemed to rise from his frayed nerves, sparking through him like words over a telephone wire. A gentle hand on his shoulder drew Hosea from his confusion and agitation, forcing his gaze up to the man who had given him the blood.

“It’s going to be okay, Hosea.” The man said softly. “When Lenny wakes up, we’ll stow you two in my cart and smuggle you out of the city.”

“Who the hell are you?” Hosea hissed, feeling his skin crawl. “Where’s Lenny? Where’s _Dutch_?”

The man shook his head. “Lenny’s in the next room. I don’t know where Dutch is. I don’t know where any of your gang is, other than you two, and… well, as for me, I’m Jed. I saved your life. Don’t thank me though. I’ve probably ruined it worse than it was before. You were too far gone for me to ask for permission before I turned you.”

Hosea stared at Jed incredulously. “Before you turned me? What are you talking about?”

“Vampirism, Hosea. To save your life, I turned you into one of us.”

“... you honestly expect me to believe that?” Hosea demanded. “What kind of a sick joke do you think you’re playing?!”

“I wish I was joking. And I wish I could’ve asked you permission to turn you. I—“

Before Jed could finish his sentence, the two heard a snarling from the other room. Jed was on his feet in an instant, snatching up a second mason jar from the table and disappearing beyond the doorway. Hosea pushed himself from the bed to join him. As he walked over, he noticed the distinct lack of pain and numbness that had taken hold in his ankles, knees, and hips over the last few months.

No more soreness, only restless energy. Hosea felt like he was sixteen again: unbound by the limits of his physical form and full of strength he hadn’t felt in years. The thought had another shiver rushing down the back of his spine.

Shaking it off, Hosea gathered in the doorway to watch Jed and Lenny. The so-called vampire was carefully helping Lenny drink down the jar of blood. He held it steady and calmly whispered words of reassurance as Lenny shook.

“It’s going to be okay.” Jed repeated.

Christ almighty, Hosea hoped he was right.

———

“You two’ll need to lay low for the time being. I have a base set up in Pleasance with my other fledglings. You’ll be safe there while you learn to control your bloodlust.” Jed told them over cigarettes on the balcony.

“Are you sure you’ll be able to smuggle us out of the city? They’ll be checking every cart in and out after the bank hit.” Hosea pointed out.

“So long as you two stay under the blankets and don’t make a sound, I should be able to mesmerize any lawman into thinking I have an outlaw-free wagon. I’m more concerned about you two finding them than them finding you.” Jed admitted. “I don’t want to risk keeping you in the city much longer.”

“Last week, I might’ve been offended over your lack of confidence in our self-control, but after that hunger I felt last night…” Lenny sighed and firmly shook his head. “I really don’t want to hurt anyone.”

“You won’t. So long as you two have fed well before I load you into the cart, we should be safe. I know it’s asking a lot, but I need you two to believe in yourselves. So long as you both stay calm, I can get us out of here. They won’t be able to sniff us out over the smell of wet dog that’s all over the city.” Jed said confidently.

“And we will be able to see our gang again? When the bloodlust is under control?” Hosea asked.

“Yes. And I’ll keep an ear out for any news on the ones who were part of the robbery. I swear to you, I will get you back to your family no matter what.” Jed promised.

“I’ll hold you to it.” Hosea replied.

Jed gave him a nod and stubbed out his cigarette, tossing the butt over the rail of the balcony.

“You two should get inside. The city’ll wake up soon, and I need you two to lay low while I gather what we need to get you out.”

Lenny and Hosea obeyed without resistance, filing back inside the tiny apartment hideout. Jed breathed a quiet sigh of relief when they didn’t question where he planned on getting the blood to tide them over. Better that they don’t ask him that. Better that they don’t think too much on it.

Jed gave one last glance over the small courtyard before he intended to go inside. Something had been itching at the back of his skull since they’d first stepped out for a smoke break. Only now did he notice the eyes that had laid on him for the past half hour, shining an icy blue in the dawn’s dim light.

The woman held his gaze as she leaned against the building, barely even blinking. Her long blonde hair was tossed over her shoulder in a neat braid. Her hand rested on the handle of her gun. Her mouth pressed into a tight-lipped frown.

Jed was by her side in a burst of shadow. “You must be Mrs Adler.”


	4. Interlude: Sadie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Chapter 5 Mission "Dear Uncle Tacitus"

“You must be Mrs Adler.”

“And you’re the vulture that's been picking up the stray remains of the gang.”

“I… well…” Jed fumbled, failing to find the right words.

Luckily, Sadie didn’t bother to wait for his excuse. “Was that Hosea and Lenny you were talking too up there?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Charles said they’d died. Both got shot.”

Jed sucked in a breath. “They got damn close to it.”

He felt a hand on his shoulder. Sadie fixed him with a hard look, her expression unwavering. As she surveyed him, Jed got the distinct feeling of being a rabbit in a wolf’s line of sight.

“I guess this means I was right not to shoot you after you stole those horses.”

Confusion flickered across Jed’s face. “Branwen and Enis. You watched me take them?”

“I thought you were an O’Driscoll. I tailed you to your little hideout where you’re keeping our boys. Our _dead_ boys.” Sadie hissed.

“And I didn’t notice you because I thought the wet dog smell was a staple of the state of Lemoyne.” Jed replied, entirely serious. “Mrs Adler, if you’re here to kill me, can it wait until I’ve gotten my newborns out of the city and in control of their bloodlust?”

Snorting, Sadie shook her head. “I didn’t shoot you then, and I won’t shoot you now. You’ve helped our gang before. I think we might need your help again.”

Jed was unable to hold back the look of surprise on his face. “You need my help?”

“We need each other’s help.” Sadie corrected. “I need to get the gang out of Shady Belle. You need to get Hosea and Lenny out of Saint Denis. If we help each other, things’ll go a lot easier.”

Jed took a moment to look Sadie up and down, taking in every detail he could. She held herself with confidence, held her gun with ease, and held her head high with pride. She gave off the aura of Alpha without even trying. Of the few werewolves Jed had run across in his two centuries on Earth, Sadie Adler was definitely the most impressive.

“You make a good point.” Jed admitted, after a moment of thought.

“So you’ll help?” Sadie asked, narrowing her eyes.

“Absolutely. Wouldn’t make sense to abandon the gang I’ve been saving for the past few months.”

That drew a smile from Sadie, who seemed to relax ever so slightly. “You’re not so bad, bloodsucker.”

Jed snorted. “Speak for yourself, fleabag.”

———

Much to Jed’s relief, getting the wagon out of Saint Denis went off without a hitch. The lawmen and Pinkertons were quick to let the “country bumpkin couple on their way to their home near Catfish Jackson’s” through. Though Jed might’ve credited it to the officers not wanting to hear about the kids— all sixteen of them— Sadie knew it had a little more to do with kid number seventeen on the way. And if kid number seventeen just so happened to be a watermelon shoved under Sadie’s dress, well, those officers would never know.

“You two can come up for air now.” Sadie called to Hosea and Lenny, once they were well on their way to Pleasance.

She laughed at her own joke. Despite himself, Jed laughed with her.

“What happens now?” Lenny asked, fidgeting with his ruined bow tie.

“We take you boys to Jed’s base, get you settled in with his other two fledglings, and then Jed and I get the gang the hell out of Shady Belle. Lord knows we can’t stay there.” Sadie explained gruffly.

“We should help you two with it. It would be faster with more hands.” Hosea said, deep lines of worry etched into his brow.

Sadie shook her head. “Not while you’re still getting used to the bloodlust. Mary-Beth had just started her time of the month when I left, and we can’t risk you two getting a whiff of the blood and losing control.”

“But we aren’t attacking you. I haven’t felt like feeding off of you at all this entire trip.” Lenny argued. “In fact, the idea seems disgusting!”

“That’s your instincts kicking in. You don’t want any blood from my kind, it’d be like drinking gasoline.” Sadie said with a snort.

“Your kind?” Hosea asked.

“Werewolves. According to every vampire I’ve ever run across, our blood tastes disgusting.”

“It tastes like shoving your head into an outhouse.” Jed confirmed.

“You’ve shoved your head into many outhouses?” Hosea asked dryly.

“Not of my own volition.” Jed said simply.

He didn’t bother to elaborate. Instead, he slowed the cart to a stop in front of an abandoned church and hopped off. “We’re here. Home sweet home.”

Hosea frowned as he hopped off of the back of the cart. He noted the paint on the nearby buildings, warning passerbys of the plague within their walls.

“You’re sure this place is safe?” Hosea asked.

“It’s a surprisingly smart place to hide.” Sadie said reassuringly. “No one comes by because of the plague warnings and the creepy feel of the place. You don’t have to worry about either of those things now. I’ve gotta admit, Jed did good setting up here.”

Jed laughed at that. “Best not let me hear that, Mrs Sadie. It might get to my head. Might make me think I’m too good to bring the supplies in myself. Speaking of which, we should get this cart unloaded.”

“We can help with that!” Called Kieran as he exited the church.

His cheery smile quickly faded into a worried frown when he laid eyes on Hosea and Lenny. “Oh, Lord…” He exhaled.

“What’s all the fuss up—“ Sean began, only to cut himself off as he spotted the group. “Oh, shit!”

If his heart could still beat, Hosea might’ve felt it stop at the sight of his fallen friends. He’d sat with Arthur the night after Sean was shot, had listened to him pour his heart out along with their whiskey. Sean’s death had been another nail in the coffin for his confidence in Dutch’s plan. Kieran’s disappearance had been another spike of anxiety driven into him late at night. Hosea had mourned them both, had thought them gone forever.

And yet they stood before him now, forever young and strong and worried about _him_.

Hosea was caught off guard as Sean rushed into him for a hug, squeezing tight to his chest. He felt Lenny at his side, also tugged in at Sean’s insistence. Though Kieran hesitated, he stepped forward when Lenny called for him and joined in the embrace.

“I missed you two fuckers more than I ever thought I would.” Sean admitted.

“We miss all of the gang.” Kieran said.

“...except maybe Bill.” He added, mostly to himself.

“As good as it is to see you again, I know Jed wouldn't've turned you if there was any other option.” Sean said softly. “What happened?”

Hosea’s eyes went dark. “We tried to rob the bank in Saint Denis. It… didn’t go according to plan.”

Sean let him go out of pure shock. “Excuse me, fucking _Saint Denis?_ You tried to hit the bank in fucking _Saint Denis_? What the bloody fuck was Dutch thinking with that?”

“Whatever it was, it wasn't right.” Lenny sighed. “Dutch, he hit his head real bad after me, him, and Arthur tried to rob the train station in Saint Denis after Bronte’s tip. He ain’t been the same since.”

“He hasn’t been the same Dutch we knew for longer than that, dear boy.” Hosea muttered bitterly.

Sadie and Jed shared pointed looks. They didn’t bother speaking up. Instead, they took to unloading the cart and listening in. Enhanced strength made the work go by quickly, and enhanced hearing made distance eavesdropping easy. The words they overheard spread worry through both of them.

“Sadie and I should get going.” Jed finally announced, once there was a lull in the conversation. “We’ll get the gang somewhere safe, and I’ll come back as soon as possible. Kieran, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”

———

It was only once they were well out of hearing range from Pleasance that Sadie spoke.

“They're right about Dutch. I ain’t been with them more than a few months, and even I can see it.”

“You’d think I’d know more about the guy I’m stealing gang members from, but I don’t. All I know is Sean says he’s brilliant and Kieran’s awed and terrified by him. But if he’s the kind of man who thought robbing a big city bank in broad daylight was a good idea, then maybe he isn’t as smart as Sean would have me believe.” Jed remarked.

“Dutch was smart, once. But he’s started listening too much to Micah, and not enough to Arthur and Hosea. They told him it was a bad idea. He wouldn’t hear it.”

“Lenny mentioned he hit his head? Maybe that injury knocked something loose in his brain.”

“Nah.” Sadie said with a shake of her head. “It’s been building a lot longer than that. Although that probably didn’t help, come to think of it.”

“Whatever happens next, you have my word that I’ll help you keep your pack safe and secure. You need anything, you let me know.” Jed swore.

“My pack?” Sadie asked.

“The gang. I ain’t met many wolves, but I know enough about ‘em to know you don’t go sticking your neck out like this for just anyone. Pack seems like the right word for it.”

“I suppose you’re right about that.” Sadie murmured.

———

Charles was waiting for them on the steps of Shady Belle. He stood as Jed and Sadie rode up, setting aside his tomahawk and whetstone. Though confusion sparked across his face, he still offered up a respectful nod. “Mrs Adler, Mr…”

“Wesson.” Jed supplied. “You must be Charles.”

“Jed’s gonna help us clear out of here. Don’t worry, he’s someone we can trust.” Sadie said firmly. “Just tell him where you need him and he’ll get to work. After that, me and you should talk to Strauss about this ‘haunted village’ he heard of.”

“Right.” Charles said. “Jed, could you help Ms Grimshaw and Mr Pearson load up the wagons? Everything else is packed and ready to go when that’s done. We need to leave as soon as possible.”

“Anything you need, son.” Jed replied.

———

The gang was on the road by nightfall. Sadie, Charles, and Ms Grimshaw took point on the journey, while Jed followed at the rear with Uncle and Pearson. Though the Pinkertons didn’t walk the night, the same could not be said for the wildlife. For once, Jed counted animals avoiding him as a blessing. The gators wouldn’t come close with him protecting the wagon train; the few that did press their luck quickly cowered at Jed’s golden glare.

Lakay was even more dark and dingy than Jed’s own base in Pleasance. Riding into it made him wish that he could steal the gang away, take them somewhere safe and bright and sunny, where tragedy and pain would never touch them again. How strange it was, that he felt such protective urges for a group of people he knew only through his fledgling’s stories.

The few residents of Lakay quickly scattered when Sadie approached. Nightfolk, by the looks of them. Not quite vampires, not quite human, not quite conscious. They were smart to bow out before risking a fight with a wolf like Sadie. Had they not been smart enough, Jed would’ve charmed them away. He felt a twinge of relief in not having too.

If Sadie didn’t need his help here, she wouldn’t need him in the future when the Nightfolk came back. No, this was Sadie’s pack. She would make damn sure they were protected.

The Van Der Linde gang, which Jed began to think of as the Adler Pack, was safe under Sadie and Charles. Once he’d made sure they’d settled in alright, he took Silver Dollar and Maggie and set off into the night.

The Adler Pack was safe. Now Jed had to make sure he could say the same of the Wesson Coven.


	5. Molly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Chapter 5 mission "That's Murfree Country"

The first time Sadie saw Molly after the failed bank job in Saint Denis was when she witnessed Susan Grimshaw fill her guts full of lead. 

Sadie had smelled the liquor pouring off of Molly as she stumbled her way into the camp at Beaver Hollow, escorted by Uncle and looking like she’d been through hell and back. Her once perfectly-done hair had been thrown into a simple messy braid. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Any bit of pride she might’ve once had left with her pristine appearance. The woman who stood in front of Dutch and lied to his face about ratting him out was as broken as the old pocket mirror she’d dropped in Clemens Point. 

When Susan gruffly ordered Pearson and Bill to burn the body, Sadie stepped in. They’d barely gotten out of the camp before she came along with the offer to give Molly her last rites and to bury her herself. Once, she might’ve been surprised at how easily the men shouldered the task off on to her. Now, all she could bring herself to feel was relief. 

So long as Molly’s heart still beat, Sadie wouldn’t give up on her. She loaded Molly onto Bob’s back and took off as fast as she dared. She needed to get Molly out of sight before she accidentally finished the job. 

Sanctuary came in the form of a clearing down the way. It was just out of earshot of Beaver Hollow, the first place where Sadie could safely remove Molly from Bob and survey the full extent of the damage. She tried to be as gentle as possible when laying Molly out on the grass, grimacing at her tiny whimpers. 

“I’m not gonna be able to get you to Jed in time.” Sadie muttered, wiping sweat from Molly’s brow. 

“P-put me out of my m-m-misery.” Molly managed to choke out. 

“I’m not letting you die because of fucking Dutch Van Der Linde.” Sadie replied, tugging at Molly’s shawl and moving her braid aside to bare her neck. “I can’t get you to Jed in time, but he’s not the only one who can tell death to go fuck itself. Let me turn you, and we’ll kill that spineless soulless son of a bitch ourselves!”

“Unless you’re a fucking angel, you don’t have much hope of saving me now.” Molly spat. “Unless all those nights of you disappearing were so you could personally talk to God, I doubt there’s much hope for my soul either. If I’m going to hell, let me burn with him.” 

“If you’re going to hell, let it be for being a creature off the night like the rest of us.” Sadie replied. “Let me turn you, Molly. You can do so much better than Dutch.”

Molly gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes through the haze of pain. “Why do you want to save me?” She asked. 

“Because you shouldn’t have to die loving a man who doesn’t love you the same way. Because I know you lied to him about ratting the gang out. Because I know that this entire story will end badly, but it doesn’t have to. I will rip Dutch to shreds with my claws and howl our cries to the moon before I let him claim he ever got the better of you!” 

Sadie was caught off-guard by the passion in her voice. It seemed to unnerve Molly as well. She swallowed heavily and crooked her head to the side, shutting her eyes tight. 

“Do it then.” She whispered. “Turn me. Make me one of you, and pray to God it gives me that same fire you have.”

Molly did not scream when Sadie bit down. 

———

The smell of wet dog hit Jed like a freight train as he stepped outside of the basement sanctuary. The blood and gun smoke followed after it, urging Jed into a sprint through the heavy church doors. He’s not sure what he expected to see when he stepped through, but a massive golden wolf and a slightly smaller red one barrelling straight for his home was definitely not it. 

The Golden wolf stopped and the Red followed her lead. The red whimpered at the sight of Jed, ducking closer to the Golden and trying to make herself look smaller. 

“What, you make yourself a friend, Mrs Sadie?” Jed asked, the joking tone a lot weaker than usual. 

The Golden snorted and nudged the Red towards Jed. Jed took the hint and offered his fist out for the Red to cautiously sniff. There seemed to be a slight recognition in the Red’s eyes, though it was clear she couldn’t tell from where. 

As Jed was distracted with the Red, the Golden disappeared for a moment. She ducked behind the church and reappeared in her human form, fixing her neckerchief. 

“Glad you had the forethought to store some clothes for me here.” Sadie said with a snort. “It’ll certainly make going into Rhodes to get some new dresses for Molly less awkward.” 

“That’s me, always the forward thinker.” Jed replied with a shrug. “This that same Molly my fledglings mentioned? The one Van Der Linde was sweet on?”

“Strong ‘was.’ Ms Grimshaw shot her in the stomach when she told him she ratted out the bank job to the Pinkertons. Which is horseshit, by the way. I could smell the lie on her almost as strong as the booze.”

“Christ.” Jed muttered. 

He reached out to softly stroke Molly’s cheek. “I can’t imagine what you’ve been through these past few months, but that’s behind you now. We’ll watch your back for you.” 

Molly whined, butting her head against Jed’s hand. 

“So you’ll make sure she’s safe while I go make sure no one else in this damn gang gets killed?” Sadie asked. 

“Of course. When I said I’d help in any way I could, I meant it. You can take Carmilla and the wagon out to Rhodes to get Molly her new clothes while I get her inside and dried off. Can’t imagine it was a pleasant run in the rain.” Jed said softly. 

“I… thank you, Jed. I wanted to bring Molly to you, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to hold on long enough.” 

“You made the right call, by the sounds of it. Go get her those dresses, Mrs Sadie. Get her something pretty. I’ll get her warm.”

———

Molly woke up to soft chatter and the gentle scrubbing of a cool damp cloth against her forehead. Someone shushed her gently and pushed her back down when she tried to sit up. The background chatter faded as someone spoke softly to the left of her. 

“Easy, Ms O’Shea, let yourself breathe.”

The calming voice of Hosea had her snapping her eyes open and bolting upright, doing exactly the opposite of what he had said. “Hosea?” She nearly shrieked. “But you— you were—!”

“Shot? As you, Lenny, and Sean were?” 

“Sean? Lenny? But they’re both dead. You’re all dead. We’re all supposed to be dead!”

“You should tell that to Jed and Sadie.” Sean said with a grin. 

Molly’s eyes damn near popped out of her skull when her gaze landed on Sean, Kieran, and Lenny, all sitting around a nearby table. Her memories of the previous night came back in a whirlwind when Hosea took her hand to calm her. Her breathing stuttered and she let herself fall back against the pillow, squeezing Hosea’s hand tightly. 

“What the fuck have I done.” She half-whispered, her voice cracking. 

“The best you could do in impossible circumstances.” Hosea told her. 

———

“How are you holding up?” Jed asked Molly once he’d brought her a cup of coffee on the front steps of the church. 

“Barely.” She answered honestly.

Jed didn’t prod. He simply sat down beside her, lighting up a cigar. “You smoke?” 

“I do now.” Molly said, taking the offered cigar. 

She took a long drag from it, exhaling the smoke slowly and watching it rise. She handed it back to Jed and took another sip from her coffee. The mug was warm between her fingers, the first proper warmth between her hands in months. The coffee didn’t taste particularly good, but it was strong and sharp and set her mind right. 

“Thank you, for taking me in like this. I… I don’t know what I’m supposed to do after this.” Molly admitted softly. “I always thought I’d die by Dutch’s side. Thought it’d be Colm or the Pinkertons who got us.”

“I’m glad it didn’t have to come to that.” Jed replied. 

Molly snorted at him. “I’m not a good woman, Mr Wesson. I got what I deserved.”

“A second chance.” 

“If that’s how you want to put it.”

“You’ll put it like that too, when you’re good and ready. Some day from now, Dutch Van Der Linde will be a footnote in your life story. He won’t even get a full page.”

“You honestly believe that?” Molly asked. 

“From what the others tell me? Definitely.” Jed said. “You’re a strong woman, Ms O’Shea. I think you’ll be able to do whatever you put your mind to.”

“You’re a flatterer, Mr Wesson.”

“I am but a humble jackass, doing my best to help my friends.”

“And I’m among them now?”

“Of course.”

“Then… if you don’t mind me asking, Mr Wesson, could I get a hug?”

Jed’s smile was soft and kind. His embrace was surprisingly warm, making Molly feel like she was hugging a cuddly bear. He smelled like tobacco, jasmine, and sandalwood— strong, but not enough to block the scent that foretold Sean’s approach. 

“Is it group hug time?” Sean asked cheerily, instantly hopping over to take a spot at Molly’s back and hug her as well. 

“You’re lucky I’m too glad to see you alive to kill you for that, Sean MacGuire.” Molly muttered. 

“I missed you too, Molly O’Shea.” 


	6. Ms Grimshaw

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Chapter 6 mission "Red Dead Redemption"

Jed could feel everything going to hell from the moment the Pinkertons rode through Pleasance. 

Their badges shone in the afternoon light, catching Jed’s eye as he smoked on the church roof. They failed to notice him perched high above, watching them ride like a funeral procession. For a moment he feared they’d stop at the church. Relief flooded him when they passed by entirely. 

It didn’t remain long. Dread formed a swift knot in Jed’s stomach as he realized what road the Pinkertons were taking. With that many men and that many guns, there was only one possible target in the Pinkertons’ sights. 

The Van Der Linde Gang. 

Jed jumped down from the roof with a loud thud. He rushed into the church and straight for the altar to retrieve the guns he’d stashed behind it, nearly knocking Sean on his ass on the way out. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” Sean asked as Jed rushed past him once more. 

“A hunch!” Jed shouted back, not bothering to slow down. 

“What, is your ‘Van Der Linde Gang Member In Trouble’ sense going off again?” Sean called, following Jed out of the church. 

“Pinkertons just passed through. A lot of fucking Pinkertons, with a lot of fucking guns.” Jed replied with a growl. 

“Jesus Fuck!” Sean cursed loudly, immediately rushing to mount Enis. “Well, let’s get after the bastards!” 

Sean had expected protest from Jed. He’d prepared himself to hear the excuse that they weren’t ready yet, that their bloodlust would only make the situation more dangerous. He did not expect Jed to swing himself into Carmilla’s saddle and then throw him back a nod. 

“Go get the others and tell them to mount up! I’ll ride ahead and make sure we don’t lose the trail!”

If Sean’s heart could still beat, it would have pounded straight out of his chest. 

———

The shooting had already begun by the time the Coven reached Beaver Hollow. They threw themselves into the fray the moment they dismounted their horses, surging forward and attacking the Pinkertons from behind. Fangs and claws connected with tender flesh, ripping and biting and tearing, filling the air with the smell of fresh blood. 

Molly’s howl ripped through the sound of gunfire and shouting, staggering the Pinkertons and making several flee in terror at the sight of a massive red wolf bearing down on them. Fire shone in her eyes as she pounced on the one Pinkerton foolish enough to point his gun at her. He died silent and thrashing, with his vocal cords torn to shreds under Molly’s claws before he could get out his first scream. 

She was off again in an instant, tearing through the camp and lunging over Arthur’s wagon to take out a Pinkerton sharpshooter. The tarp pitched over and came down with her, knocking around every last one of Arthur’s meagre possessions and blinding the sharpshooter with the torn fabric. The ear-splitting shriek of the sharpshooter as his arm was ripped from his torso had his fellow Pinkertons fleeing in terror. 

Those who ran were swiftly picked off by Sean and Lenny, shot down with their rifles and silenced by the grave. The two circled around the camp, taking out each and every straggler in their way. They were dead set on making sure none would live to chase after their recently-vanished gang members. 

In the chaos and the howls and the smoke, Hosea and Kieran found Ms Grimshaw, barely hanging on to life. It was Kieran’s yell that brought Jed running. 

“Do we have a survivor?” He asked.

“Barely!” Hosea replied, squeezing Ms Grimshaw’s hand tight in his. “Susan? Susan, can you hear me?”

“M-molly… t-t-tell M-molly I’m-m s-s-sorry.” Ms Grimshaw choked out, her breathing rough and ragged. 

“You can tell her yourself, once all this is done.” Hosea said gently, brushing stray hair from her face. 

He glanced over to Jed and saw he’d already pulled out his knife. He made a swift cut on his forearm and let the blood well up before pressing it up to Ms Grimshaw’s chapped lips. “Drink.” He commanded softly. “Drink, and worry about apologies later.”

Ms Grimshaw hesitated, looking to Hosea for reassurance. Hosea offered a soft smile and another squeeze of her hand. “It’ll be alright, Susan.”

Something familiar shone in Ms Grimshaw’s eyes as she leaned in to drink. It was a rage and desperation Hosea hadn’t seen cross her gaze in years. Something beyond Pinkertons had gone down in the ramshackle camp prior to the coven’s arrival; something that had shaken Ms Grimshaw to her very core. Hosea wished he’d thought to ask her before she slipped into the transformation’s night of dreamless sleep. 

Molly approached them in her human form, wrapped up in the tarp she tore down from Arthur’s wagon. “Two of them went through the caves— the rest fled to the forest.” 

Jed nodded. “Alright, then we need to split up and tail them. I’ll follow the two that went through the caves. Sean, Lenny, and Molly, you guys track the ones that went through the forest.” 

“You got it, boss.” Sean replied, whistling for Enis and mounting up. 

Lenny was hot on Sean’s tail, rushing after him on Maggie. Molly shifted back to her wolven form and raced after them, already sending a howl to the moon. Jed watched Carmilla throw a look at him before following after them. He nodded to her before turning his gaze back to Hosea, Kieran, and the sleeping form of Ms Grimshaw. 

“Can you two get Ms Grimshaw back to Pleasance?” 

“Yes, absolutely.” Kieran answered, moving to sweep Ms Grimshaw into his arms. “She can ride with me. Hosea, can you provide the cover fire?”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” Hosea replied. “Give me just a moment, though.”

Hosea rose from where he’d crouched, crossing the camp in a few swift steps. He grabbed a few items from the ruins of Arthur’s wagon, shoving most of them into his satchel before quickly returning. One item was left out in his hand— a photograph of Hosea and Arthur when both were much younger, grinning big and posing in front of a serene countryside backdrop.

“If you run across Arthur while you’re tracking, give him this.” Hosea said softly, giving the photo over to Jed. 

“Of course.” Jed replied. 

He tucked the photo into his coat pocket before helping Kieran hoist Ms Grimshaw onto Branwen’s back. Hosea mounted up beside them, hushing Silver Dollar before they rode off. Only when Hosea and Kieran were out of sight did Jed finally turn and enter the caves. 


	7. Arthur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Chapter 6 mission "Red Dead Redemption"

Jed followed the trail through the entirety of the cave, ignoring the wreckage along the way. It was a mad dash through the dark, hoping against hope that maybe he could catch up with the two who’d fled via the caves before they got too far. Unless they’d stopped somewhere to rest in the meantime, Jed didn’t think it was likely he would. 

He emerged from the other side of the caves into moonlight. It shone down strong on the dirt before him, revealing the hoof prints where the two runners had switched to riding. Much to Jed’s relief, Carmilla met him there, whinnying loudly and tossing her mane in the wind. 

“Clever girl!” Jed praised, swinging up into the saddle and spurring her into a gallop. 

———

Going up the side of the mountain, Jed encountered even more blood and two dead horses— a white Arabian and a Hungarian Halfbred. The boot prints picked up once more, continuing up the mud and onto the rocky path. Cursing, Jed turned Carmilla away and began racing towards the other side of the mountain. Maybe if he was fast enough, if he rode hard enough, he could cut the runners off. 

Carmilla’s hoofbeats rolled over the hills like thunder as she carried Jed around the side of the mountain. The small sliver of hope Jed held for cutting off the runners grew exponentially when he spotted a man stumbling down the mountainside. He slowed Carmilla to a stop right before the man’s feet touched the road, dismounting in one smooth motion and rushing to steady the man before he could slip and fall. 

The man looked up in shock at Jed, revealing a tan face littered with nasty scars and tired, bloodshot eyes. 

“You John Marston?” Jed asked, after wracking his brain for the name Hosea had told him. 

“Who’s asking?” John replied stiffly, his hand going for his revolver. 

“A friend of a friend. You aren’t looking good, John.”

Not good, but alive. He’d make it away with the right horse to help carry him. 

“None of us look good right now.” John hissed. “Arthur’s still up the mountain, he’s…” 

John trailed off, clenching his eyes shut and shaking his head. “I… I need to get to Copperhead Landing. I need to get to my family.” 

Carmilla trotted forward and nosed at Jed’s shoulder, before turning to face the south. “Clever girl.” Jed murmured. 

In one swift motion, Jed swept John off of his feet and deposited him onto Carmilla’s saddle. “Ride hard, and ride fast. Carmilla will look after you. Godspeed, John Marston.” 

Before John could protest, Jed slapped Carmilla on the flank and yelled out a loud “HAW!”

The Percheron was off like a bolt of lightning, John clinging to her reins in shock. Jed watched them disappear beyond the tree line before turning back to face the mountain. 

“Alright, Arthur Morgan. Let’s get you out of this goddamn shitshow.”

In a whirl of smoke and wind, the man at the bottom of the mountain became a little brown bat.

———

Arthur Morgan was dying. 

He’d known he would for a while. Charles had told him that it was a gift, to know his time was coming, to be given a chance to make things right. Maybe he was right, maybe this was right, maybe he was always meant to die for his loyalty to Dutch Van Der Linde. 

It didn’t feel right. It just felt over. 

As Micah stormed away from his prone form, Arthur began to crawl his way over to the cliff’s edge. If this was to be his last sunrise, he was damn well gonna make sure he appreciated it. 

Arthur took a shaky breath and rolled his head to watch the sky. He traced the lines of birds in flight and watched them in their perfect formation. Geese? He’d never much liked geese, but he could appreciate the beauty in watching them fly. 

He’d never much liked bats, either. A little brown one surged up from below the mountain, stopping for a moment to hover in the air and stare back down at him. It interrupted an otherwise perfect skyline. If that wasn’t just Arthur’s luck…

The little bat swirled down closer to Arthur. Smoke began to swirl around its form, consuming it completely in a matter of seconds before spiraling towards the ground. Arthur blinked at the sudden darkness, only to open his eyes to a man standing before him. If Arthur had possessed the strength to reel back, he would have. 

“You must be Arthur Morgan.”

“And you’re Death?” Arthur asked dryly. 

The man shook his head. “I’m a friend. Call me Jed.”

“If you’re not Death, then you might as well go. He won’t be waiting for me much longer anyways.” Arthur said. 

“Oh, I think he can hold on for a few more years at least.” Jed replied. 

He reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a photograph, placing it in Arthur’s shaking hand. “Hosea’s missed you.” 

Arthur furrowed his brow. “You said you weren’t Death. How did you…” 

“Know about Hosea? He’s a friend. A recent one. I reckon we have a few others in common as well.” Jed told him softly. 

“I don’t know what kind of sick joke you’re playing, but it isn’t funny.” Arthur growled. 

The slight strain was enough to send him into a fit of coughing. He spit blood on to the stone below him, shaking and wheezing. Jed rested a gentle hand on his shoulder and steadied him. 

“Sadie mentioned you were getting sick. She thought it was something you might’ve picked up in Guarma, some exotic flu. But that’s a consumption rattle, ain’t it?” 

Arthur couldn’t manage words, so he simply nodded. 

“I can cure it, Arthur.” Jed told him. 

“I doubt that, Jed. Even if you could, I ain’t got much to live for anyways. I’m a bad man. I don’t deserve to be saved.” 

“Hosea would beg to differ. Probably Sean, Kieran, Lenny, Molly, and Ms Grimshaw as well. And I have no doubt Sadie would tear me to shreds herself if she found out I had a chance to save you and didn’t.” 

Arthur stared at Jed with an expression somewhere between fury and confusion. His brow furrowed as Jed pulled the knife from his belt and made a clean slice across his forearm. The blood welled up against pale skin, making Arthur freeze in place. 

“Hosea misses you. I’d like to be able to bring you back to him, but it’s your choice to make. There’s no going back after this.”

“If I accept your cure, I’ll be able to see Hosea again?”

Jed nodded. “Drink. You’ll fall asleep afterwards, into something deep and dreamless. When you wake up, I’ll make sure you’re with Hosea.” 

Arthur pressed his lips to the cut and drank. He didn’t need to ask any other questions. Whether he woke up dead or alive didn’t matter, so long as he woke up to join Hosea. 

———

The Coven had barely been back in Pleasance for an hour before Jed returned, on a different horse from the one he’d set out on and carrying what looked like a corpse. He hollered for Sean and Lenny as he approached the front steps of the church. The two came to his call almost instantly, freezing up when they saw exactly who he carried with him. 

“Arthur?” Sean asked, reaching out to lift him off the horse. 

“You two get him inside and onto a cot— I’m gonna haul some water up from the well so he can wash once he’s woken up. Someone needs to make sure Hosea’s there when that happens.” Jed said quickly.

“Here, I’ll carry Arthur in. You get Hosea.” Lenny said to Sean, taking Arthur in his arms and cradling him carefully. 

“Christ, you have no idea how good it is to see you.” Sean told Jed, once Lenny was gone. 

“What, were you worried about me?” Jed asked with a chuckle. 

“Only worried that Kieran would be in charge forever if you didn’t come back!” Sean replied. 

Jed allowed himself a laugh. “Speaking of Kieran, I should probably get this stallion over to him before I draw the water. Lord knows it’ll probably like him a lot more than it likes me.”

———

Arthur woke up ravenous, feeling like he hadn’t truly eaten in months. Everything around him was in a haze of golden light. His vision swam and shimmered as he tried to get his bearings, tried to remember what the hell happened. There’d been Dutch, then Micah, then the Pinkertons and the caves and the mountains, and then Micah and Dutch again. There’d been birds and a beautiful sunrise. There’d been a man. There’d been Hosea. 

Hosea? Hosea was dead. Arthur was dead. Arthur was dead and Hosea was dead and—

“Arthur.”

The familiar voice cut through the haze like a knife through butter, drawing Arthur out of his confusion and into the present. A mason jar was pressed to his lips and Arthur drank down the warm liquid inside. Though his mind identified the substance as blood, it didn’t respond beyond the acknowledgement. He emptied the jar in seconds, then pulled away to take a long breath. 

For the first time in months, his lungs felt clear. 

“Arthur? Are you with me?” Hosea asked, setting the jar aside and moving to reach for another. “Jed said you might be more thirsty than we were, we have more if you—“

Hosea didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence due to Arthur surging forward and capturing him in a crushing hug. Hosea’s confusion lasted only a moment before he was hugging Arthur back, pulling him tight to his chest and stroking a gentle hand through his shaggy hair. 

“There, my boy.” Hosea murmured. “It’s good to see you again.”

“It’s good to see you too.” Arthur whispered.

He pulled away after a moment, attempting to pull himself back together. He took another deep breath his body knew it didn’t need before letting it out slowly. 

“Micah was the rat.” Arthur began, only to be hushed by Hosea. 

“It’s over, son. Forget about that bastard and let him rot in hell.” 

“But, Dutch—“

“Made his choice. He didn’t choose us.” 

“We should have realized… Hosea, nothing feels right anymore.” 

“No, it doesn’t. But it will.”

They were interrupted by someone knocking gently on the entryway behind them. 

“Come in.” Hosea called. 

Sean poked his head through the doorway. “We heard talking, is it okay if we…?”

Arthur’s eyebrows shot up as Sean stepped into the room, followed closely by Kieran, Lenny, Molly, and Ms Grimshaw. 

“Jesus, he got every last one of you?” Arthur asked incredulously. 

“Glad to see you too, English.” Sean replied with a smirk. “The little fucker got us all. Well, except Molly. Sadie got her. But she’s still part of the family, mutt or not!”

Molly smacked him upside the head. “Fucking behave yourself, Sean, the man’s only just woken up!” 

Ms Grimshaw sighed pointedly at the two before turning her attention back to Arthur. “Mr Morgan, Mr Wesson drew some water from the well for you to wash up when you’re ready. He also got you a change of clothes for after. If any of these hooligans bother you too much before you’re recovered, you let me or Mr Wesson know and we’ll straighten them out. Come meet us by the old barn once you’ve had a moment to steady yourself.” 

She turned and left the basement room elegantly, calling for the others to follow. 

“Jesus, you’d think she’d been at this for years from how she’s acting!” Sean laughed. “She’s only a few hours older than you and already bossing everyone around!”

“She’s right though. We should let Arthur get his bearings before we overwhelm him. It’s good to see you again, Arthur.” Kieran said softly, offering a gentle smile before following Ms Grimshaw’s lead. 

“I’m glad you made it out.” Lenny added. 

“It’s good to see you alright.” Molly told him. 

“I hope you’re ready to be the baby of the family, English. But don’t worry, Big brother Sean will always be around if you need him!” Sean exclaimed merrily, before being dragged out by Molly and Lenny. 

Hosea sighed fondly once the others had left, shaking his head and letting out a chuckle. “I forgot how annoying he could be.” 

“So did I.” Arthur muttered, massaging his temple. 

“I should probably go as well. Give you a chance to wash up.” 

Hosea rose from his seat, only to be stopped by Arthur grabbing his hand. 

“I missed you, Hosea.” He said gently, his voice cracking from something other than sickness for the first time in months. 

“I missed you too, son.” 

———

Arthur had found Jed exactly where Kieran said he would be— out on top of the church, smoking a cigarette and watching the skies. Arthur hoisted himself up and carefully walked over, trying his best not to slip and fall. Though it wouldn’t hurt anything but his pride at this point, Arthur would prefer to not have the gang’s first impression of him as a vampire be tarnished by him falling off the roof. 

“If it’s any consolation, Sean falls off this roof constantly. It’s kind of funny.” Jed said softly. 

“How’d you know I was thinking about falling off the roof?” Arthur asked, taking both a seat beside Jed and the cigarette he was offered. 

“I get… impressions… of your thoughts, from being your sire.”

“You can read my mind?”

“Just your emotions. You’re somewhere between nervous and ecstatic. You’re breathing properly for the first time in months, even if you don’t technically need to anymore. It’s one of the reflexes our kind tends to keep.” 

“Huh.”

Arthur took a long drag from the cigarette before blowing out a puff of smoke. “So…” He began.

“So…” Jed echoed. 

“How’d you end up becoming the saviour of the damned?” Arthur asked. 

Jed laughed, soft and low, shrugging his shoulders. “I was in Rhodes, tracking down some little Irish fucker named Sean who had a nice bounty on his head— a head which had a bullet in it about a minute after I first spotted him. I hid out the shooting in the saloon, then followed the big ugly guy with the Ardennes who was taking the body away. I noticed Sean still had a life force pulsing in him and I thought, well, if he’s survived a massacre in Blackwater, being captured by bounty hunters, and is still clinging on to life after a bullet went through his head, then maybe his life ain’t done just yet.” 

Arthur cocked an eyebrow. “So you turned the guy you were gonna turn in to the law?”

“I… Well, it’s not the first time I’ve taken down a bounty poster and then ignored it. When you get to be my age, you look for anything exciting to do, just to mix things up a little. And saving someone’s life has always been my most guilty form of excitement… After Sean, the rest just sort of fell into me. They’re good people. I wanted to give them a second chance to prove it.” 

Nodding in agreement, Arthur returned the cigarette to Jed. “If that’s the case, I think you and I are gonna get along. It’s good to meet you, Jed Wesson.” 

Jed couldn’t help his smile. “And you, Arthur Morgan.” 


	8. Epilogue I: The Ranch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Epilogue missions from "Bare Knuckle Friendships" to "A New Future Imagined."

Charles Smith was in Saint Denis when John and Uncle caught up to him. One moment he’d been mopping blood off his cheek and gritting his teeth. He lost himself in John’s words in the next. Though he’d never been prone to flights of fancy, Charles found it hard not to consider this one. 

The offer was made. Join John at his property in New Austin and remember what it feels like to have a home, or stay in Saint Denis and spend what little he made from the rigged matches on drinks and a room for the night. He could chase after the domestic dream or accept he’d never been built for it and finally move on from the shitstain of a city. 

For the first time in years, Charles hadn’t thrown his fight. Maybe he’d eventually learn to make a habit out of it. 

“I went back to the mountain when I heard about Arthur’s death.” Charles began as he and John walked along the streets. 

“I… I was going to bury them both, him and Ms Grimshaw, but I couldn’t find the bodies. All I could do was carve some wood and build them both memorials. Ms Grimshaw’s is down overlooking the valley. Arthur’s is on a hillside facing the evening sun.” 

“It’s what he would’ve wanted.” John murmured, reaching out to pat Charles on the shoulder. 

“I just wish I could have done more.” 

“We all do.” 

———

“I just wish I could’ve done more.” Arthur murmured, sitting out on the front porch with Jed. 

Jed took a long drag from his cigar. “I think we all do.”

Arthur snorted. “Look at me. Mourning over a horse.” 

“She was a good horse. She deserves the respect, and you deserve to be able to mourn her.” Jed replied. 

“She does! But it’s been eight years, and I still haven’t gotten a horse as good as her, and frankly… frankly, I’m scared to even try. I’m always scared the new one will end up like Valkyrie and Boadicea.”

“Mhm. I’ve never had a horse as proud as Miss Susie or as smart as Carmilla, and I suppose I never will. Bram, bless him, has done his best since he carried you and I home from that mountaintop, but he's the dumbest goddamn horse I’ve ever ridden in my life.”

Arthur snorted in agreement. “That horse ain’t got a bit of brain in his head. Sure does love you, though.”

“He’s a disgrace to Friesians everywhere. I think he tries to make up for his legendary stupidity by being handsome.” Jed mused. 

“The Sean MacGuire of horses.” Arthur commented with a slight smirk. 

“Oi! I heard that!” Sean yelled from where he was fixing shingles on the roof. “You should speak for yourself!”

“Can you two save it?” Jed sighed at both of them. “Christ almighty, I’m trying to have a constructive discussion here, not listen to you two pull each other’s pigtails. 

Chuckling, Arthur shook his head. “Let’s save the discussion for the auction. I’ll stop teasing Sean… for now.” 

The two men rose from their place on the porch swing. Arthur tucked away his latest journal in his satchel, while Jed stubbed out his cigar in the nearest ashtray. It was about time for them to go, anyway. Jed always was the right on time type. 

———

Beecher’s Hope looked like absolute shit. 

So long as they worked hard, it wouldn’t look like shit forever. Even Carmilla was doing her part, dutifully hauling lumber and supplies and occasionally stomping around to wake Uncle. She was the smartest horse John had ever owned. Hell, she was probably smarter than him. 

She was also an asshole. 

Carmilla made damn sure John, Uncle, and Charles woke bright and early every day. She paced about as she watched them slowly build up the ranch house. She made sure the quick breaks they took in between remained quick with her loud whinnying and stomping about. She gladly chased off any pests who scurried too close. On one memorable occasion, she nipped Uncle’s ear for falling asleep under the tree and chased him back to work. The bite hadn’t broken skin, but it did hurt enough to keep Uncle from his afternoon nap. He made sure to grumble about it as he poured over blueprints and directed construction.

“She is a goddamn slave-driver.” Uncle muttered, rubbing at his sore ear. 

Charles snorted. “She probably just misses having a warm barn to sleep in at the end of the day. She’s a beautiful horse— must’ve been well cared for before John stole her.”

“Hey, I didn’t steal her!” John said defensively. “She was a gift; one that came at a good goddamn time.”

That piqued Charles’s interest. “Oh?”

“When… the night Arthur died… he sent me down the mountain, and I ran into a stranger on the way. The guy just… tossed me onto his horse and told me to ride hard. Said Carmilla would take care of me.”

It sounded stupid now, thinking back on it. A man who he didn’t know had given him his horse and sent him to his family. A complete and total stranger took one look at him and gave up his mount to get him to his family faster. Had the stranger not come along, John would’ve just stolen a horse and been done with it. 

But the stranger had come. The stranger had given him Carmilla, said she’d take care of him, and sent him on his way. And the stranger had been right! Carmilla had stood beside him for eight long years. She had followed him to the Yukon and back, never once giving up on him. The old girl was still as strong and stubborn as the first day she’d carried him back to his family, doing most of the navigation work herself and continuously making sure he was still awake. 

“Sounds pretty damn generous for a stranger.” Charles remarked, breaking John from his reverie.

John shrugged. “It was. I wish I had gotten the guy’s name. I’d like to track him down and thank him for everything Carmilla’s done over the years.”

Charles couldn’t help but smile. “Perhaps you will, someday. For now, we should get this house built. You can thank Carmilla herself by building her a barn next.” 

———

All uncertainty about getting a new horse faded away when Arthur set eyes on the dark bay Andalusian in the auction stables. She must’ve been about five or six years old. She stood as proud as a statue, holding her head high and idly observing the people around her. When Arthur offered her a sugar cube, she daintily took it and neighed her appreciation. 

Once all the paperwork was signed and the money exchanged, Mr Arthur “Wesson” became the proud owner of his first new horse in eight years. The Andalusian carried him from the auction yard with the same grace Valkyrie had once possessed, very quickly adapting to the weight of Arthur on her back. She kept perfect pace with Bram as Arthur and Jed began the ride home. 

“So, you think of a name for her yet?” Jed asked. 

“I was thinking something like Freya.” Arthur admitted. “She was a Viking goddess of love and beauty.” 

Jed hummed, nodding his head. “It certainly suits her. You’re pretty fond of the Norse pantheon, huh?”

“Hosea studied the Greeks and Dutch read stories of the Romans. I figured I should get to choose some gods and goddesses of my own.” Arthur said with a shrug. 

“Fair enough.” Jed chuckled. “I had a bit of a Shakespearean kick around a hundred years ago, but I can’t say I ever got much into history beyond that.”

“Didn’t you fight in the revolutionary war? And then the civil war as well?” Arthur asked, cocking an eyebrow. “I’d say you got pretty far into history.”

“It wasn’t history yet, when I was fighting. It was just… another day. Redcoats, confederates, they weren’t these great legendary enemies. They were just fuckers on the other side. I spent most of the revolutionary war following a Mohawk man named Connor and helping him run subterfuge missions. I spent most of the Civil War killing racists and getting really mad at politics. If I’m being honest, I’m more than ready to sit out the next great war. I’ve seen enough of that bullshit for several lifetimes.” 

Arthur listened to Jed ramble, taking comfort in the words. Something in the way Jed talked was incredibly soothing to Arthur. His voice calmed him and chased off any anxiety that creeped up his spine. Said anxiety had been getting worse lately, leading to Arthur intentionally bringing up topics he knew Jed could talk for hours about so he could relax into the words. If Jed knew what Arthur was doing, he didn’t seem to mind it. 

Jed filled the rest of their ride home with pleasant conversation, switching from the topic of war to speak of the plans he had for the future. 

“I was thinking maybe I’d visit England, after awhile. Not yet, not until we’ve got a faster way to get there than by boat, but I’d like to see what was so goddamn good about the place that made the pilgrims decide to leave it, y’know?”

Jed laughed to himself as they pulled up to their homestead. “I could even visit Ireland, and bring Sean with me. We could go see if leprechauns are real.” 

“You might have to put those travel plans on hold, Mr Wesson.” Miss Grimshaw called, emerging from the house with a worried look on her face. “A telegram came in while you two were out at the auction. It’s… well, you’ll have to read it.” 

“Who’s it from?” Arthur asked gruffly, moving to take the telegram. 

“Miss Adler.”

———

Nothing short of a hurricane could have ruined the mood at Beecher’s Hope. Abigail wore the ring John had given her with pride, carrying herself a little taller as she did her chores about the ranch. Every so often her face would light up with glee as she paused and took a moment for herself. Soon she’d be Mrs Abigail Marston, not just in heart but in the eyes of God and the Law. It was a high she hadn’t felt since the first time she’d kissed John. 

Nothing short of a hurricane could have had her faltering— until Sadie Adler rode in with the news. 

When the words “I found Micah” came out of her mouth, Abigail’s world came crashing down around her.


	9. Epilogue II: The Revenants

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for the Epilogue mission "American Venom"

It had been eight long years since the Wesson Coven had gone north. When they’d first stepped foot on Canadian soil, Jed’s only worries had been keeping them safe and fed. Each and every last one had left their old life behind them. Jed hadn’t expected to be taking his fledglings south ever again.

Now they rode right back into the thick of it. They certainly weren’t fledglings anymore. 

If vengeance was a fool’s errand, then by God were the former members of the Van Der Linde Gang fools. Still, they rode on, with Arthur, Hosea, and Jed taking point and the rest following. When Jed had first read the telegram to the gathered members and announced his intent to go help Sadie, there hadn’t been a single one who wished to stay behind. One singular thought united them, driving them on as fast as they could ride 

Micah Bell had to die. 

———

As far as Charles and John knew, they were the only people stupid enough to chase Micah up the mountain. 

One by one, Micah’s snipers picked at the small group. Though they dodged most of the attacks with trained ease, Charles was caught in the side with a bullet and was staggered. As he propped himself against a rock and caught his breath, he insisted the other two carry on without him. Sadie let out an animalistic growl as a bullet pierced her gut and slowed her down. Her yell at John to keep pushing forward left no room for argument. 

The swathes of Micah’s men seemed to go on forever. The more John pushed forward, the more the freezing air settled deep in his bones and exhausted him. He was more than ready for it to just be _over_ when Joe crossed his path. 

“My fight is with Micah, not you!” John snarled at him, grip tight on his revolver. 

When Joe didn’t listen, John shot him down and dispatched the two others. At the end of his trail of broken corpses was the rat bastard John had wanted to strangle since the first time he’d heard him call Arthur “black lung.”

“Hello, scarface. Miss me?”

The bullets flew as soon as Micah ducked behind cover. Fire and fury rose in John as he dived aside and shielded himself behind an assortment of crates. He traded shots with Micah for what felt like eternity, until both were down to the last of their ammunition. 

John heard the click of a hammer being pulled back and a low, feral growl. “At least die like a man, Micah.”

Sadie had pushed her way up the rest of the mountain, coming up behind Micah and shoving the barrel of her pistol into his back. 

“Aw, hellfire! It’s just like old times. All manner of folk paying social calls…” Micah chuckled. 

Before either John or Sadie could ask what the fuck he was talking about, the door to the main tower swung open. John’s breath caught in his throat as he watched Dutch step out into the sunlight. 

“Hello, son. Mrs Adler. Been awhile.”

———

The Coven’s trek up the mountain had been much faster than John’s, mostly due to the fact that Micah’s men were already dead. The bloody trail left in John’s wake made following his path all too easy. Arthur led the charge, with Hosea and Jed on his heels. Nothing in the world could’ve slowed them down. 

Nothing, except for the injuries of one Charles Smith. 

Charles groaned at the sight of them. “I didn’t think the injuries would be bad enough to cause hallucinations…” He muttered. 

“Charles?” Arthur asked, visibly hesitating. “Are you okay?”

“Never better.” Charles replied flatly, clutching at his side. 

Kieran broke off from the group to kneel at Charles’s side. “You guys keep going. I’ll get Charles back down the mountain and we’ll regroup at the base. When you kill Micah, give his corpse a solid kick for me.” 

He shared a look with Arthur, who nodded tersely before pushing on. 

———

“All manner of folk paying social calls…” They heard Micah say, and then Dutch stepped out from the tower and Arthur saw red. 

Whatever upper hand Dutch’s appearance had given Micah over Sadie was quickly wrenched away as Ms Grimshaw and Sean wrestled him away from her. Micah cursed up a storm as he was restrained and forced to the ground. Ms Grimshaw kicked him hard in the side to silence him. 

“Watch your fucking mouth, Bell.” She hissed. 

Dutch looked genuinely taken aback as he gazed around the gathered group— Ms Grimshaw and Sean holding down Micah, Lenny coming up to steady Sadie, Hosea and Arthur taking their places beside John, and the sole stranger of the group leaning up against the old shack and watching the rest with a sharp eye. 

“You’re all dead…” Dutch whispered. 

He fell to his knees in a glassy-eyed daze, muttering _you’re all supposed to be dead_ over and over again. He held his face in his hands, dragging them slowly downwards. 

“Dutch, buddy, hold it together…” Micah called, only to be kicked again, this time by Sean. 

Hosea parted from Arthur and John, coming to kneel in the snow in front of Dutch. He gently tugged Dutch’s hands from his face and held them in his own, squeezing tightly. “What happened to you, Dutch?” He asked, voice soft. 

“We were supposed to grow old together.” Dutch murmured. 

“Oh, Dutch, we already did…”

The years hadn’t been kind to Dutch. To say he looked like shit would be a lot gentler than the truth. The lines of his face ran deep with stress, his forehead creases and the bags under his eyes making him look ten years older than he should have. Hosea traced his thumb over Dutch’s cheekbone and sighed.

“I fucked up bad, Hosea. I… I hurt our boys. Our sons…” 

“You can make it up to them. You just need to be willing to try.” 

Dutch blinked at him. “You don’t plan to kill me?” 

“I spent a lot of years hating you for what you did, Dutch. I also spent a lot of years wishing you’d have the chance to make a different choice. I think it’s about time you got that chance.”

Hosea looked away from him for a moment, casting his gaze to the one man Dutch didn’t know. 

“Jed?”

Jed came to crouch beside him. “Hosea and I had a few hypothetical discussions over the years, on what we’d do if we ever tracked you down. At first he was pretty adamant that we’d never see you again, but I’ve run into too many familiar faces throughout the decades to know people don’t stay away forever. Eventually, we decided that if we crossed paths with you, we’d offer you a choice. Come with us and try to fix things, or we put a bullet in your brain and regret what could have been. From the way you’re looking right now, I imagine you’ve felt enough regret for all of us.”

Dutch shook his head. “I’ve certainly hated what I am, but men like me don’t change. We only get worse.”

“You don’t change without making an effort.” Jed replied. “That’s the catch. You gotta be willing to try.”

“If you’re willing to try, we’re willing to let bygones be bygones.” Arthur added. “Despite everything, despite what you did… we missed you, Dutch.”

Staring between each and every member of his gang, watching the faces of those he thought long dead, Dutch came to his decision. He swallowed roughly and nodded. “I’m willing to try. I’ve lost you all once. I don’t want to lose you again.” 

A weight seemed to lift off of the gathered group. Hosea pulled Dutch close in relief, hugging him tight through the thick layers of Dutch’s coat. As much as Jed would’ve liked to let them embrace for longer, there were still matters to attend to. 

He clapped his hands once, gathering everyone’s attention. “Now, heartfelt as this is, we came up here to kill a rat. Who’s gonna do the honors?” 

“Best let Sadie do it.” Arthur called. “She did all the hard work of tracking him. Sadie, you got any objections?”

“None at all.” Sadie replied, picking up her fallen pistol. 

Jed let out a dark chuckle. “Then I’d suggest you make peace with the Devil, Micah Bell. You’ll be meeting him very soon.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Micah lol


	10. Epilogue III: The Redeemed

There was a lot less screaming than Jed expected to witness at Beecher’s Hope. While his eardrums thanked the merciful quiet, his anxiety still spiked in his chest each time someone looked sideways at him. He’d taken up a place in a far corner of the living room, leaning against the wall and trying his best not to intrude. He was the only person present in the ranch house who’d never been a member of the Van Der Linde Gang. As touching as the reunion was, Jed wasn’t meant to be a part of it. 

He quietly excused himself after a while, claiming he needed a smoke break. Jed never truly needed anything outside of blood. Tobacco was an indulgence he allowed himself. It couldn’t affect him in any tangible way, but the warmth and smell of the cigarette calmed him. He’d carried his creature comforts with him into vampirism and refused to let go. 

Jed let himself smoke and lost himself in his thoughts. 

———

After five solid minutes of being hugged by Abigail, Arthur had to gently peel away from her and guide her to the couch Jack was sitting on. Just as soon as he’d freed himself from her, John was at his side, pulling him in for his own quick hug. He quickly let him go again, making no comment as he moved to sit with Abigail. A smirk pulled at Arthur’s lips as he noted John was wearing his gambler’s hat. 

A huff from Charles drew Arthur’s attention away from the Marstons. He’d managed to amble over and join the rest of the reunited gang in the living room, though from the look on his face, it had taken a great deal of effort. Hosea noticed as well, swiftly rising to offer Charles his seat in the armchair. Though Charles began to protest, a firm look from Hosea had him relenting. 

“I guess this is the reason I could never find the bodies.” Charles said softly, once he was seated. “I spent months kicking myself for not being able to give you a proper burial.” 

“You… you went to the trouble of trying to bury me?” Arthur asked. 

“You deserved better than rotting away alone. I thought I had been too late.” 

“Oh…” Arthur murmured. “Thank you, Charles.”

“I guess all I can say now is that I’m glad Jed beat me to it.” Charles shrugged, wincing at the spike of pain it sent through him. 

Worry flashed in Arthur’s eyes at Charles’s physical discomfort. “Is the pain medication working? Jed knows how to make this special sort of tea to help, I can go get–“

“You don’t have to worry about me, Arthur. Let yourself catch your breath.” Charles interrupted, unable to stop himself from smiling. 

“Arthur hasn’t caught his breath for eight years. I doubt he’ll start now.” Sean butted in with a grin. 

Arthur tossed him an ice-cold glare. Before he could give his scathing retort, Molly pulled a small vial from her satchel and passed it over to Charles. 

“This should help.” She murmured. 

Charles gave his thanks and quickly tried to direct attention off of him. “So, where have you all been for the past couple of years?” 

“Jed’s got a ranch up in New Brunswick– Wesson’s Rest. We’ve been training horses, for the most part. Or, well, I’ve been training horses.” Kieran chuckled. “Sean’s been mostly falling off of them. And fences. And roofs.”

“Aw, fuck off! You lose an eye and see how good your depth perception is!” Sean called. 

“Language!” Ms Grimshaw chided, smacking Sean up the head. “There’s a child here!”

She turned her gaze to Jack. “Don’t you ever pick up any of this fool’s vocabulary, Jack. You leave those words out of your stories.” 

Jack looked at her in wide-eyed fear. “Uh, I’ll try not to, Miss.”

“I’m sure Jack’s much more mature than John and Arthur were at that age, Ms Grimshaw.” Hosea remarked with a chuckle. 

“I should hope so!” Ms Grimshaw huffed. 

“Ms Grimshaw’s been left in charge of the ranch, for the most part. Suppose it went to her head.” Sean stage whispered to the Marstons, earning himself another smack. 

“She has a better eye for the business than the rest of us, and Jed’s been too busy being bothered by you to run it for himself. Why don’t you tell Jack about your falls off the roof from when you were trying to learn how to turn into a bat?” Hosea teased. 

“Mark my words, when I finally get it it’s over for the rest of you. It took Jed a hundred and fifty years, but he did it!” Sean declared. 

“He can turn into a bat?” Jack asked with mouth agape.

“He uses it first and foremost to scare the others, which is a tradition I plan to carry on.” Sean replied proudly. 

“Someday Sean will turn into a bat and he’ll never turn back, and the rest of us will finally get some peace and quiet.” Lenny snorted. 

“Sean’s antics aside, Lenny here’s some good for himself. Started teaching a class of local kids their letters and numbers.” Hosea added, tossing a grin Lenny’s way. 

Lenny bowed his head, flushing. “Hosea helped me make my first lesson plans. I teach them how to read and write, and Hosea and Arthur teach them how to fish and ride.”

“Hosea teaches the fishing part, I teach the riding part. If they let me teach fishing, the kids would never catch anything at all.” Arthur clarified. 

“You taught me to fish, and I catch them just fine.” Jack pointed out. 

“That’s nothing short of a miracle then.” Molly said with a laugh. 

“I have to agree.” Arthur admitted with a sigh. 

“Where have you and Aunt Sadie been, Aunt Molly?” Jack asked eagerly. “Pa says you’re bounty hunters, but he won’t talk about it beyond that.” 

He’d been hanging off every word the coven members had said in the living room, listening like he was being read an old gunslinger story. As fascinating as some of the cases Molly and Sadie had stumbled upon in their time chasing criminals, they weren’t exactly suitable for young ears. Molly offered up a smile and a shrug of her shoulders. 

“There isn’t much beyond that.” Molly said. “We hunt bounties, buy clothes and horses, and occasionally howl at the moon and run from very angry men.” 

“You’ll get the stories when you’re old enough to hear them and your Ma won’t hang us for telling you.” Sadie offered.

“And not a moment sooner.” Abigail added sternly. 

“Jed’s got a few appropriate stories somewhere in between the wild ones, mostly about Miss Carmilla.” Arthur said. 

Jack perked up at that. John held back a laugh and patted him on the back. “You can ask Jed about his Carmilla stories tomorrow. For now, it’s time for bed, kid.” 

———

Jed was still out on the front porch by the time John had gotten Jack to bed and went for one last smoke. After a full three minutes of standing and smoking besides Jed with no acknowledgment from either side, John cracked and cleared his throat. The action seemed to surprise Jed, who jumped a little at it. 

“Ah, shit! How long have you been here? Sorry about that, I was a million miles away.” Jed apologized swiftly, stubbing out his cigar. 

“Not too long.” John replied. “I just… I wanted to thank you, sir. For helping my family, and the gang, and for giving me Carmilla.” 

Jed brightened up at the mention of Carmilla “Ah, I saw you rode her up to the mountain! How is she these days?” 

“Still as strong as ever. She’s carried me through some real shit.”

“Mhm. She always was loyal. Smart too. Smarter than most people, probably.”

“Now that’s a fact. She’s a little ornery sometimes, but she ain’t never done wrong by me.”

“She never will. If she wasn’t fond of you, she would’ve turned back and found me as soon as you got off her. You’ve taken good care of her.” 

“And you’ve taken good care of my friends. Most… most people wouldn’t have given us the time of day. I… thank you again, Mr Wesson, for saving them.” 

Jed patted John on the shoulder. “You don’t gotta thank me, Mr Marston. You took care of my girl, accepted my fledglings, and you’re letting me try and help the one man you should hate most in this world. That’s all the thanks I need.” 

“You remind me of how Dutch used to be, before everything went to shit for us.” 

Jed shrugged. “I’m at my best when I’m butting in on other people’s business. From the stories Arthur told me, I ain’t that dissimilar to him. If there’s a way I can help him redeem himself, then I’ll do it. I’ll give him his second chance.” 

“Will you turn him into a vampire?”

“Depends. If he wants it, maybe. It’s nice to be able to turn someone who can actually make the choice on their own, without death staring them in the face or being too close to the end to even speak.” 

“I take it you ain’t turned many like that.”

Jed nodded silently. 

The two shared a moment of peace before Abigail appeared in the doorway, looking concerned. “Are you coming to bed, John?”

Giving Jed one last quiet thank you and a smile, John returned to Abigail and disappeared inside the house. Jed was considering moving to visit Carmilla in the barn when another person joined him. 

“Mr Van Der Linde.” Jed greeted softly. 

“Mr Wesson.” Dutch replied. 

“Are you done with your apologizing?” 

“I don’t think I ever will be, to be truthful. I fucked up hard, Mr Wesson.” 

“We all do, at some point. It’s the choices we make after that that prove who we really are.” 

Dutch eyes Jed carefully, studying his face. “You’re a smart man, Mr Wesson.”

“Call me Jed. I’m at my best when I’m just Jed. I take it you’re probably also at your best when you’re just Dutch, and not Dutch Van Der Linde.” 

“I… I suppose I was better, when I was just Dutch. When it was just Dutch and Hosea and Arthur… will they ever forgive me? Will John? Will Molly?”

“They don’t have to, but I reckon they will someday. Hosea’s ready to let you back into his life, and Arthur didn’t say no. They’ll warm back up to you with time.” 

“I suppose I can only hope to be worthy of their forgiveness, should they ever come around to it. I… I’ll understand if they don’t.”

Dutch felt a warm hand on his shoulder and looked to see Jed offering him a smile. “It’s gonna be okay. Just keep making the effort, and good will come from it.” 

“I hope you’re right.”

———

The wedding of John Marston and Abigail Roberts wasn’t something the gang expected to witness, but they were never more grateful that they got to. Abigail was a vision in white, and John stood a little prouder than before. A massive weight had been lifted from everyone’s shoulders, letting them truly celebrate the Marston’s marriage with light hearts and happy smiles. 

In the evening glow, surrounded by music and dance and laughter, Arthur could see everyone as they once were— happy and together. Maybe they’d never be the same as they were before Blackwater, maybe they’d never be the Van Der Linde Gang again. But as he watched from under the old oak tree as Hosea reached out and squeezed Dutch’s hand, watched Sadie spin Molly around in a joyful dance, and watched John and Abigail hold onto each other and move soft and slow, Arthur figured it was better off that they weren’t. 

Jed had finally joined the rest in the celebration, showering Rufus in pats and affection as he told Jack the stories he’d been promised. Arthur watched them for a while. He felt a sense of relief curl in his chest as Jed seemed to find his place among his fledgling’s family, sharing his stories and sharing his smiles and asking Jack about what he liked to read. 

Arthur’s attention was drawn away from the others as Charles came to sit by his side, nursing a bottle of scotch and offering Arthur a cigarillo. 

“I would’ve brought you a drink, but I don’t think you’d have much use for it these days.” Charles admitted softly. 

Chuckling, Arthur nodded. “If I wanted to get drunk, I’d have to drain at least five of the most shit-faced patrons down in Blackwater’s saloon, and even then I would only be buzzed. I’d need to be real thirsty to pull that one off.” 

Charles hummed at that. “Are you thirsty now?”

“Only for your company.” Arthur said, and then immediately winced at himself. 

Luckily for him, all it did was make Charles laugh a little and roll his eyes. “Oh, Arthur…”

“I missed you. Forgive me if I don’t know how to say things subtly.” Arthur huffed. 

“I like it when you’re blunt. It’s more you.” Charles replied with a soft smile. “Besides, I’ve missed you too.”

They shared a moment together, sitting under the stars and watching the others celebrate. Arthur has forgotten how peaceful it was, being able to simply exist beside Charles. The two fit well together. Arthur let himself inch closer to Charles and rest his head on his shoulder, all but purring when Charles slipped an arm around his waist and leaned into him. 

“I’d like you to show me that little memorial you built for me, someday.” Arthur murmured. 

“Someday.” Charles agreed. “When we know what we’re going to do next.” 

Arthur nodded. “Jed’s been talking with Hosea about bringing Dutch back to the ranch with him, getting him a few years of hard work under his belt before they go off on some grand adventure. I think Jed’s trying to make sure he’s got someone around to shovel the shit for him, what with Kieran thinking about going to find Mary-Beth, and Lenny maybe taking up a full time job at the little schoolhouse. Sean, well, I imagine he’ll keep bugging Jed until he learns how to turn into a bat. And Ms Grimshaw, she’s been doing real good running the business side of things up on the ranch. I figure she’ll stick to that. Sadie and Molly, well… whatever they do, it’ll certainly be exciting.” 

“And what will you do?” Charles asked. 

“Well, John said I was more than welcome to stay here, but honestly… I’d like to ride with you, if you’ll have me.”

Charles clasped Arthur’s hand in his, intertwining their fingers. 

“Always.” 


	11. Bonus: Art

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is bonus art for the story yeehaw  
> everything can be found on my blog under the tag [revenants verse](https://iseektheholygrail.tumblr.com/tagged/revenants-verse)

**Author's Note:**

> If you're familiar with my past work, you'll know it can take me a long fuckin' time to finish stories. Rest assured, this story is completely finished as of posting the first chapter, and I have a schedule set to post the other parts. No four years of waiting on this one, lads. Self-isolation has given me a lot of time for writing.
> 
> Pop by and visit me over on tumblr @iseektheholygrail or on twitter @trickstersheir.


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